


I Only Make Jokes To Distract Myself From the Truth (I Love You)

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling is key, Established Relationship, I can and will use the Big Voice on you, I coughed up a fluffball, M/M, TO LIFE!, you may be lovely but I use the Big Voice when I get the chance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek had doodled a pair of rings, he'd decided it was time: five years, innumerable fights--none of which had even slightly cracked the way they loved each other. He gave Stiles the ring without asking, and Stiles put the kibosh on all ceremonies, because he neither wanted one nor needed one, and neither did Derek. They'd made love on the next full moon, and Stiles had laughed for two minutes straight at the look on Derek's face when he took the opportunity to start in with some of his worst material while they were knotted together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Only Make Jokes To Distract Myself From the Truth (I Love You)

**Author's Note:**

> Had I not been in the mood for fluff, this would have been utter smut. 
> 
> ...Please don't kill me for the fluff, I'll try to smut it up again soon.

Derek's large hands gathered up Stiles's sprawling legs and tucked them aside, slipping into bed beside him and laying his head on Stiles's shoulder. They were both a mess: cum-streaked and blotched with red in the form of fingertips and bitemarks, Stiles's eyelashes salty from sobbing through the last of more orgasms than humans had been built for, and Derek couldn't stop himself from putting his mouth on Stiles's skin again, addicted to the way it felt to hold him and to have him on his tongue. 

Stiles was already more than halfway asleep, his mouth swollen and angry red and deliciously parted in sleep, his cheeks and ears glowing their flush. Derek layered kisses over his lax skin, worshipping it, caressing his hands over Stiles's shoulders, around his waist. Stiles hummed, reaching up in return to hook a hand behind Derek's neck and pull him in, wrapping long limbs around him as he shifted against the warmth of Derek's skin. Stiles's pale slope of a back fit him even tighter into Derek's arms as he traced his hands over it. Stiles mumbled into his neck, rousing just enough to sink his teeth into Derek's skin, making the Alpha shudder and sigh, opening up instinctively to submit to his mate. Derek brushed his smile over Stiles's shoulder, burying his nose into the crook of his neck and breathing deep. Sex was heavy on Stiles's scent, pleasure with a hint of pain, exhaustion, love. It was all there for Derek to take; the wonderful, soft and sweet scent of Stiles tempered with Derek's sharper scent constantly now, marking them both as mated. Stiles's teeth had sharpened, his lithe muscles supernaturally strong, his wounds healing almost as fast as a wolf's would: all because he was mated to the Alpha, and a spark of the Pack. 

Derek could hear Stiles's heart beating from the other end of the county at the very least; he'd grown stronger, more confident; there was a connection he couldn't put a sense to between them, balancing them both, easing them that they had each other. Stiles had catalogued their kisses, knew the things Derek had to show him because he couldn't put it to words. 

"I love you like a sickness," Stiles had whispered to him once, "you make me fevered and dizzy and desperate, Derek, like if I don't touch you, I'll die of the pain." He'd cornered Derek against the kitchen counter then, kissing him deeper and deeper until they lost track of everything but their mouths and their sighs and their skin sliding against each other. Derek didn't have to tell him it felt worse for him: that Derek could be just inches away, and ache because he wasn't devouring Stiles's skin, his scent. 

Derek loved the lazy days, when mornings wouldn't call for Stiles until it was almost noon, and he could simply lay there wrapped around Stiles, listening to him sleep with a slow, steady heartbeat pressed against his own. 

Stiles had been buried alive the first time they'd kissed. It had rained, and his scent was all but gone, and Derek had been driven almost feral by the damn hunters the Alpha Pack had brought with them, let loose in the graveyard Stiles had been buried in. Derek could still remember tearing through the earth with talons, snarling and mad with rage as he ripped open a wound in the world to pull his mate to safety by the bindings on his wrists, Stiles's pale hands grasping at him as he fought for air, curling into Derek's bloody, soaking, bare skin as he simply clutched Derek tight and trembled with the cold and the rain. Derek had kissed warmth into his lips, had tucked his arms around Derek's neck and carried him from the graveyard, nearly taking Scott's head off when he tried to take Stiles from him. Stiles had tucked his face into Derek's hair, his long fingers scratching through to Derek's scalp, muttering for Scott to leave them alone; go win back Allison or frolic with Isaac. There had been tears in Stiles's voice. It had taken three days of Stiles tucked in tight against him in his bed before he'd been able to go back, and it was only then that he realized that the grave they'd buried him on top of was Stiles's mother's. For that alone, Derek made them suffer. 

Stiles had inexplicably gone to the graves of Derek's family, a giant bouquet that was actually probably bigger than he was in his arms. Derek was supposed to have been on a run, the full moon necessitating that he work off the excess, but he'd watched and listened as Stiles had talked to the headstone of Derek's mother for hours, talking about what he'd found Derek to like him cook; what seemed to bring him peace. Stiles asked permission to date him, telling her he wants to live up to whatever they expected for their son and more. Derek only went to Stiles's bedroom once Stiles was asleep, curling around him and tucking Stiles in tight to his chest, because he was something precious that Derek knew he'd never understand, and needed to protect with everything in his body. 

Stiles had told him he loved him on a Wednesday, in the middle of Finals week, his eyes bloodshot with studying and researching behind Derek's back to help him fight the feature-creature of the week. He'd pressed a chaste kiss to Derek's lips, murmuring that he didn't need Derek to say it back, didn't want him to. Then he'd kissed him deeper, smiling as he pulled away, and left the loft yawning and swearing under his breath about trigonometry and how he'd read better fanfic than half the things they'd made him read in English that semester. Derek hadn't ever said it: he'd written it, drawn it, traced it over Stiles's skin, and had etched it into everything else he did and said. He still knew it was a miracle that Stiles could hear it, though. 

Stiles had never officially moved in, but he'd been a part of Derek's household for so long by the time they realized it that it didn't matter neither of them had talked about it. And when Stiles adopted an abandoned wolf-lab pup, letting Derek come home to the scent of a pup on the property and the sight of Stiles and the pup curled up together, asleep on the couch, Derek had had to wake Stiles up kissing him deeper and deeper, the puppy yipping excitedly and trying to climb between them. 

When Derek had doodled a pair of rings, he'd decided it was time: five years, innumerable fights--none of which had even slightly cracked the way they loved each other. He gave Stiles the ring without asking, and Stiles put the kibosh on all ceremonies, because he neither wanted one nor needed one, and neither did Derek. They'd made love on the next full moon, and Stiles had laughed for two minutes straight at the look on Derek's face when he took the opportunity to start in with some of his worst material while they were knotted together. 

Derek had never stopped worshipping Stiles in seven years together, total. Stiles loved him to a fault, and he could only love him back all the harder. 

Stiles sighed as he arranged Derek to his specifications, smiling sleepily. Derek stroked his fingers through Stiles's hair, pressing kisses over the shell of his ear to the hollow under his jaw. He knew he was silent as he mouthed the words he couldn't say to Stiles, "I love you." 

"I love you, too, broody britches." Stiles mumbled, asleep. "How are you even conscious?" 

Derek hushed him, fighting back a laugh as he tucked his mouth against Stiles's shoulder and wrapped around him. The sun was rising on the day after their second wedding anniversary when Derek Hale closed his eyes wrapped around the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> And if none of you got the Chicken Little references in the tags, I cry.


End file.
